


The Best Conspiracies Are Often True

by Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16064024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron/pseuds/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron
Summary: Bruce has very little in the way of hobbies that Alfred approves of, the first on this list being a conspiracy theorist. When a lead comes from Smallville, Bruce drops everything to go see if the rumours of aliens living among them are true.





	The Best Conspiracies Are Often True

**Author's Note:**

> This is Pre-Slash since working in some actual slash would seem wrong in this part of the story. There may be more coming but, I have other projects.

Most teens Bruce’s age were pulling all nighters to prepare for their exams. At eighteen, college was a daunting shadow that was becoming more and more real the nearer the months came for finals. But Bruce, homeschooled since he was thirteen and had actually taken his final exams last year after his tutor decided he was too much of a ‘know it all’ to wait another year, had nothing in the way of exams to keep him up at night.

He didn’t even have college even if Alfred was still trying to persuade Bruce it was the best option. But Bruce was adamant that college, like school, was a waste of time in the grand scheme of his life, so he merely threw out the college pamphlets and indulged Alfred in his want for a gap year while Bruce ‘discovered himself’. 

Well, Bruce hadn’t discovered himself. What he had done was stumbled upon another realm of the web that had him flying down in the early morning, gently placing his laptop in front of a newly woken Alfred and say, as he had done many times before, “It’s a conspiracy!”

Alfred, still working around his second cup of tea that morning barely glanced at the screen as he mumbled, “Of course it is Master Bruce.”

Bruce, not perturbed in the slightest, sat himself opposite, pulling the screen back around his direction as he started rattling off his findings. Some town called Smallville had a meteor shower. The government was involved in the clean up but some people had swore they were venturing into land that hadn’t even been hit by the meteors. Some people thought it was just precautions, but this site, considering whoever this was parents were around at the meteor shower, swore they saw something glinting in the sky at one point. “Aliens,” Bruce declared. “It has to be. No rock without some kind of geode inside would shine like this. The person described it as having a bright shine too, not just a dark one you’d get from a smooth rock. I’m telling you Alfred, aliens!”

“Of course it is Master Bruce,” Alfred said again. Just like he always did when Bruce came down with stories of outer space. 

One of these days Bruce was going to test just how far Alfred was willing to indulge him until he called it quits. So far, he’d been with Bruce to Roswell, England, even trying to break into Area 51 and not put up even a little complaint. He either had the patience of a saint, or Bruce really was as troubled as he feared he was. Why else would Alfred do all this for him if he didn’t feel sorry for Bruce?

He clicked on a few more sites, letting Alfred wake himself up some more as he researched Smallville altogether. It was a small town. Tiny. Right in the middle of Kansas. They weren’t exactly subtle about their meteor heritage, the website for visiting inviting Bruce point blank to visit one of the largest meteor craters in the United States. 

They didn’t do much else in the way of tourism. As a farming town, people mainly came through looking for cheap trade, and since it was so small, right in the middle of nowhere, no one really had a reason for passing through. 

There were attempts of course. The hospitality alone was apparently reason enough to visit. Then there was the heritage side of things, the native Americans and the future ‘founders’ of Smallville. Mostly it was just farms.

Farms and aliens.

“Alfred,” Bruce started.

“Just book it already,” Alfred sighed, whipping up some eggs he divided between the two of them. Alfred finally brightened after he had some food in him, “It’ll be nice to get out of Gotham anyway. Besides, the cleaners are due around.”

Bruce made a face. He hated the cleaners. Usually Alfred was in charge of maintaining the house. Well, these days he was, but it wasn’t always like that. Before the… accident, Wayne manor employed a whole host of people to make sure it was not just habitable but pristine. After however, Bruce just, he didn’t like them. They messed with things they weren’t supposed to, and Bruce could always tell when things were out of their place. So Bruce had Alfred fire them and told Alfred to just bother with the rooms they actually used, let the rest of this place die along with his parents. 

Naturally, Alfred only listened to half of Bruce’s plea. He fired everyone as promised, but, once every three months Bruce had to suffer through the cleaners so this place wouldn’t actually fall into ruin. 

At eighteen he probably could have stopped them coming himself. But, well, Alfred wouldn’t be too pleased so Bruce let it slide. It also helped Bruce get Alfred in a good mood if he didn’t put up too much of a fuss. Really, Alfred should be lucky it was only a fuss these days. When Bruce had been younger he’d thrown the mother of all tantrums if so much as a speck of dust was cleaned without his permission. 

He still felt like doing so these days really. Which was why Alfred was probably right in letting Bruce whisk them away to the middle of nowhere while the manor was cleansed of dirt.

They packed that evening, as was always the way with Bruce’s adventures. Bruce didn’t like wasting time, but since Alfred refused to leave without at least a days notice Bruce had to wait just a little before they were off. 

He made sure he had everything he needed. His camera, his books, his pens and that damn cell phone Alfred insisted on when Bruce still got kidnapped in broad daylight. Mostly however, he made sure that he had the photo’s of the meteor shower he’d managed to find online printed out and ready to examine on their drive. 

He was sure Alfred drugged him that night, or he was just exhausted, since he woke later than expected. Alfred had breakfast ready for him when he got to the car however, so Bruce didn’t think too much about it. 

Smallville was a long drive away. Really long. They took to driving in four hour shifts, stopping only when it got dark to refuel and grab some sleep. Had Smallville actually been farther than a two day trip Bruce would have booked a flight. However, two days wasn’t too bad for him considering they had driven to Nevada when Bruce wanted a closer look at Area 51. It also gave Bruce a chance to really study the evidence he’d gathered and let Alfred start his side of these little investigations.

While Bruce was a bright boy, Alfred had actual experience in tracking things down. He was like a bloodhound, once he’d caught the scent there was no stopping him. It was why Bruce liked bringing him on these adventures. Also because before he was seventeen Alfred refused to let Bruce go anywhere outside of Gotham on his own. But, while he’d hated the fact that Alfred was doing it because Bruce was still considered a child, he did appreciate Alfred’s skill set.

Especially when it came to plotting course charts. By the time they were pulling up to the Smallville sign Alfred had several places the peculiar meteorite could have landed. 

Bruce drove them to the centre of town, the motel he’d booked promising it was somewhere around here. Smallville itself really lended itself to its name. The town was no bigger than Gotham’s largest mall, and while Bruce couldn’t see a school, he knew that too wasn’t too far away compared to Gotham, again. 

It was nice in its own way however. The people walked without fear of one another, even stopping to talk on occasion. Their clothes were bright, the sun even brighter, and Bruce asked Alfred to check they’d brought sunscreen as he rolled his window down to ask for directions. 

They eventually made it to the motel at four, the last of their food reserves being used up as Alfred declared the rest of the day for resting and relaxing. Something Bruce attempted but found himself studying his map hours later when Alfred had dozed off.

He got another night with no sleep as he studied and studied where they were going the next day. When it actually dawned, Alfred tossing a pillow Bruce’s way in punishment for not getting at least two hours, he knew Smallville inside and out. 

They started with the touristy side of things first. There was a guide, even if they got one or two outside visitors a year, waiting at an information desk to show them around. She was more than happy to tell them about the meteor shower as she led them to the biggest crater it had made in their town.

“My mother swears the thing was no bigger than a pebble when it landed, but my God did it make a big mess.” 

Bruce sized her up to be in her early twenties. She had probably been at home while the sky rained down around her. Pretty useless when it came to eyewitness accounts, but still giving Bruce a good idea of what exactly happened here. 

“It was probably the impact. That or the ozone adding to the meteor’s velocity,” He summarized, the girl giving him a blank look before laughing her confusion away to talk about just how many buckets of soil it would take to fill this thing in.

Bruce kept his mouth shut the rest of the time she was talking after that. 

She took them around three more meteor sites before they were done. Each one Bruce listened carefully to the size of the meteor, crouching down himself to see the angle the rock would have landed and whether it had split off or remained intact through the fall.

Not one of them however, not even the big one, was right enough for a spaceship. The angles all suggested smaller rocks, and unless this alien was tiny, which was a possibility, then the craft should have been larger and made a larger, wider impact.

“Perhaps our own investigations will prove more fruitful,” Alfred suggested when Bruce told him as such.

“Hopefully.”

They spent the rest of the day asking the people of Smallville about the shower. Well, Alfred did. Bruce, inbetween shopping for more sunscreen, merely directed the questions Alfred needed to ask, taking careful notes at the answers the locals were more than happy to give.

“You know,” Alfred said when they seated themselves in some makeshift diner, “If you just spoke without caring what they thought you may get the answers you want without using me as a go between.”

Bruce shook his head. “You see the way they look. I can’t speak normal.” Normal being a language that, even at eighteen, was more foreign than any of the other languages Bruce spoke fluently. He just, he couldn’t communicate with people. Not like Alfred could. Every time he tried they ended up staring at him like that girl did. Like he was this weird little computer full of odd facts instead of a person who was trying to initiate conversation.

“You speak normal with me,” Alfred pointed out.

“That’s different,” Bruce argued because it was. “You speak Bruce. The others don’t.” Alfred had known him since before he was even conceived. He knew what Bruce was trying to say even if Bruce didn’t himself. 

Alfred had said it was social anxiety when Bruce first came home from school after the accident. Bruce didn’t think so. He thought the accident merely helped Bruce see what he hadn’t before. He was expecting people to look at him differently when he went to school, but since he hadn’t actually paid attention to them before all that only now was he actually listening to the things they had always said about him. How weird he was, how wrong. Even Tommy stopped playing with him after a while. His ‘secret project’ more important than Bruce, so Bruce had asked to be taken from school after a few more years. It was better that way. If more lonely.

The map found its way under his hands, Alfred subtly trying to cheer him up with more conspiracy work. They had only scratched the surface after all.

They started on the craters Alfred had marked the next day, or the places the craters should be anyway. The first was in the woods that surrounded the water plant. It was a trek to get to, Bruce feeling every step as his achy, sunburnt shoulders were battered by his backpack on each step. He’d went searching for factor 100 that morning, despite Alfred applying liberally the one they still had before they started in the trees. 

“Now then,” Alfred said, his face angled up as he stared between the tree tops, “If I’m right, the crater should be about… here.” 

Bruce ditched his pack as he set to looking. If a crater was in the woods it would most likely be overgrown by now. Foreign chemicals or not, sometimes outer space provided the perfect fertilizer and as Bruce’s foot slipped in a small cavern he was starting to think he should send that little fact into NASA. Or at least the history channel.

“Alfred!” He slid down, the crater not too big but definitely wider than any they had encountered the day before. It really only came to his knees, the roots of newly grown plants trying to trip him up as he accepted his tape measure from Alfred and started rambling off numbers. “This has to be at least debris, maybe rocks sticking to the ship for cover and splitting off when they reach a lighter atmosphere.”

“It is possible,” Alfred agreed. “But we don’t know it it’s a ship yet Master Bruce. It could just be another bigger rock.”

Bruce waved that theory off. If they were always going to think of the alternatives then there was no point in even looking. The whole point of these expeditions was to not be sheep that accepted what the government said at face value. So Bruce did a few more examinations, took a closer look at the trees to determine that yes, only a rock would have come through here, nothing bigger, before shouldering his pack once more.

“This is good Alfred,” Bruce gushed as they slid into the car once more, “Great even. We finally have something to work with.”

“And if not,” Alfred said, starting the ignition, “At least you can write a paper on the meteor shower for the National Geographic.”

Their next stop was a road, one that should have at least two craters nearby. The first one Bruce wasn’t really expecting to find, it being a road and all. But he still took measurements anyway, able to find where they had needed to fill in the road and from the land to the side just how deep it was by seeing it he could chip away at some of the filling. 

Alfred kept a watch for cars all the while, at one point almost tackling Bruce off the road as someone flew by without even slowing. It just went to show that even Smallville had its assholes. 

The second crater, thankfully, wasn’t on the road. Bruce knew there was a good chance they were going to get in trouble, but he plowed on anyway as he started into the cornfield looking for any trace of debris or unusual happenings that the people of Smallville or the government might have missed.

The cornfield, like the road, had been filled in. But, thanks to the wonders of this foreign fertilizer, Bruce could tell just where exactly the meteor had hit by finding the tallest corn cobs and taking it from there. He meant tall too, they were easily twice Bruce’s size.

The dirt was still soft here no matter how many times it had been trodden over, and by the size alone Bruce was starting to get a good feeling. It was easily large enough to hold a car, small still, but big enough to transport someone to earth. The size of it all was large, but the depth, Bruce was willing to bet, only held the edge of the ship at the very least.

“I think this is it,” Bruce said, feeling a grin stretch over his face. “Alfred this is it. This is the crater. I think this is where the ship landed. Look.” And he explained, even if Alfred was able to see for himself Bruce explained because it was easier hearing his thoughts out loud sometimes. Like if they were spoken then it was actually happening. 

Alfred, while sceptical, seemed to catch some of Bruce’s excitement, smiling too as he warned Bruce not to get too excited. It didn’t actually prove it was aliens after all. 

“So we ask around,” Bruce was sure he’d seen a farm house not far from here. “The locals will have seen something if they were driving near here. We just ask them to describe what the rock was like. I don’t need much Alfred, I just,” he wanted to know he was on the right track. That these things were possible. 

Alfred knew that and hurried Bruce into the car with no further argument. Together, they backtracked down the road until they came to a yellow farmhouse. 

“Now remember,” Alfred coached, “Smile, be polite, and don’t correct them.” Bruce had been guilty of doing that a number of times. Alfred had to keep telling him they weren’t lying, just that not everyone knew or remembered specifics like Bruce did. Yet another thing Bruce got wrong then.

They knocked, Bruce getting his notebook out, already jotting down the angle the inhabitants would be able to see the cornfield at from this far. A woman answered the door after a moment, Bruce noting her to be about early forties, maybe mid. Old enough to have seen the meteor shower, and, judging from the wear and tear, be living in this house, on this farm at the time too. Excellent.

Alfred made introductions, seeing no reason to hide their purpose here as he explained, “We were wondering if we could ask some questions about the meteor shower.”

“Oh,” She looked back, Bruce narrowing into it. “I don’t know if now’s a good time. Jonathan’s out fixing the tractor, I only said I would be gone a moment you see.” 

An excuse, she wanted rid of them. Alfred had taught Bruce all about how to spot when someone was giving him the brush over. Namely because he thought it would help when Bruce finally got up the courage to talk to a girl. He could spot all the familiar tells right now as Martha mumbled something else about not wanting to keep Jonathan unattended for long.

“Conspiracy,” Bruce muttered, Alfred giving him a little wave to be quiet.

Martha had heard anyway as she asked, “Excuse me?”

Alfred latching on to say, “Bruce just said a shame. Especially because he’s so good with cars. His uncle Phillip used to teach him how to fix engines when he was younger. If your husband doesn’t mind the help I’m sure we can still have that little chat.”

Bruce was impressed. More so when it worked, Alfred giving all of Bruce’s credentials in motor work to this woman until she had no choice but to invite them in. 

The house itself wasn’t too big, the only windows facing the corn field that from the kitchen. He was sure there might be more upstairs, but Alfred had only gained them entry this way so they could get to the back. Out here, it was even easier to see where the crater would have landed, Bruce making sure Alfred knew before going over to see what he could do about this tractor.

Martha hadn’t been lying at least when she said her husband was working on it out back. There the tractor was, and there Jonathan was with a screwdriver and oil everywhere. He gave Bruce a long look when he ambled over, a slow, “Martha?” all he asked in explanation.

“This is Bruce, he’s come to help you.” They shared a look, Jonathan handing the screwdriver over far faster than Bruce expected to join his wife and Alfred.

Motor’s were interesting. They were one of the few things that had gotten Bruce outside when he was younger. Uncle Phillip had come almost every weekend with some motor or other for Bruce to tinker with, the two of them modifying and learning everything they could until he too left Bruce alone. Nevertheless the skills came in handy. Bruce’s cars, no matter how expensive, broke down just like any other. As did other appliances around the manor. It saved Alfred having to call someone out if Bruce could just fix it up. Sometimes better than normal, even if Alfred sometimes had a hard time figuring out the modifications Bruce made.

The tractor he was working on now didn’t need too much doing to it. It was in pretty good condition actually. A bit older than Bruce would have thought to keep it, and rusty in parts where it shouldn’t be. But not irreparable. He managed to cool the thing down, which had been the main source of the problem, just as Alfred got to what exactly they saw flying through the sky that day.

The Kents were evasive to the extreme. One moment they were in town, the next they were in their house and couldn’t see anything. At one point they had driven down the road where the meteors landed and, scared, gunned it all the way back home.

They definitely knew something. The question was what.

Alfred didn’t press no matter how much both of them might have wanted to. It was hard enough getting them to give them anything never mind trying their luck at a more truthful answer. They would just have to make do with the lies. So, once Bruce finished setting the tractor to rights, they bid their goodbyes and went to go find something to eat.

They ended up back in that little diner, Alfred putting a nice blueberry muffin in front of Bruce like that would make everything alright. It kind of did. 

“The government came through Smallville,” Bruce said. “Chances are they threatened some people into keeping their silence.”

“Very true,” Alfred agreed. “We should try the neighbours tomorrow regardless. There is a lot to be heard in lies after all Master Bruce, and the more lies we hear the more we can start putting this conspiracy together.” 

Bruce felt a grin slip across his face for the second time that day. “You agree it’s a conspiracy then?”

“It’s definitely something,” Alfred said.

They got a good nights sleep, Alfred making sure of it by definitely putting something into Bruce’s milkshake. Most likely it was the meds he was supposed to take, the ones Bruce had made sure to leave behind on his dresser because they made him drowsy.

But they did their job if it was them, Bruce waking up bright eyed and ready for another day of adventuring as they started doing the rounds of the farmhouses surrounding the Kents. 

The neighbours had all been in town on the day of the meteor shower. One was having drinks with his visiting family. Another was getting groceries. The last, too far away to even see the corn field, said she was busy picking her daughter up from daycare.

What was worse was that they all seemed to be telling the truth. Alfred told Bruce not to take it to heart, that this just meant more investigating, so they went back to the corn field and took other measurements. Bruce paid particular attention to the size of the corn this time around, wondering if he could take a sample of the dirt back to Gotham with him. He wouldn’t know what he was looking for, but that was just part of the fun. He would learn, and when he did, he was sure the composition would lend itself some interesting results. 

“Hello in there!” Came just as Bruce persuaded Alfred to fetch a sandwich bag for him.

“You think it’s the farmer?” Bruce asked, ready to bolt if Alfred said so.

“Stay here.” Alfred left, tossing the bag over to Bruce before he did.

He wasn’t gone too long, and when he returned there wasn’t an angry farmer on his arm. Well, the guy wasn’t angry anyway. “Master Bruce, this is Clark Kent. His parents told him about our little expedition yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Clark grinned, Bruce getting the feeling that cheery exterior was hiding something. “Heard you were asking about the meteor strike. Thought I would lend a hand.”

“A hand?” Bruce asked.

Alfred talked over him before he could say anything more, “We’d be delighted of course. Nothing beats a native when looking for the source of any mystery.”

Clark just kept on grinning, Bruce straightening when the man ambled a bit closer. He looked to be just a little taller than Bruce, not by much. But his build was something Bruce wasn’t taking for granted. “Kent?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah?” Clark said.

“You are the farmers we met yesterday’s son?” Because he didn’t look it. Neither of their genetic makeup could produce this boy. His skin was darker for one, and not just because he spent more time in the sun. There was a definite shade difference between him and either of his parents. His hair too, was darker than either of theirs, even Martha’s whose was more of a light brown than anything close to Clarks. Then there were his eyes. Bruce didn’t think he’d ever seen a blue like that before.

Yet Clark didn’t deny his relation to the Kents, a chippy, “Yup, that’s them. So what are you looking for?” not so subtly trying to get Bruce off track.

He spared another glance at the guy before leaving him for Alfred. Bruce had better things to do than try and communicate, so he finished filling his bag and examined the edges of the crater once more. 

Clark liked to linger. Bruce noted that away as Alfred found less and less things to occupy the boy with. If he had been just a little bit older, perhaps Bruce would have found some interest in him. However, seeing as he looked no older than Bruce, and the bookbag he was holding had his school stuff in, Clark couldn’t have been more than three when the meteors hit. Far too young to have seen anything then. 

It still didn’t stop Clark from trying to be helpful however. He was almost lying on Bruce’s back as he leaned over to try and see what held Bruce’s attention. It got to the point Bruce was quietly asking Alfred to remove him, Alfred doing nothing of the sort of course because he was busy trying to find the sunscreen Bruce kept forgetting to apply every hour.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” Bruce snapped when he could feel Clark’s breath on his neck. 

Clark shrugged, Bruce able to feel it with how close he was, “It can wait. What are you looking for?” He asked again.

“I’m not looking for anything.”

“What have you found then?” Clark asked, not missing a beat.

The sentence in itself threw Bruce. Usually people didn’t notice the unspoken part of his words, yet here Clark was catching that Bruce wasn’t looking because he’d already found what he’d originally been looking for yesterday. “I… I found the edge of the meteor crater.”

Clark knelt next to him, “Really?” And at least in this respect he looked genuinely curious. “Where?”

“Er, here.” Bruce showed the distinct difference in dirt between the crater and around it. How this one was softer, richer, and led to larger plants as a result. “I think it must extend at least five foot deep. No deeper or else the soil wouldn’t be this level with the rest of the ground.” It would either be distinctly higher or lower, and the effects of the radiation wouldn’t be as pronounced as they were to the crops.

“Why no deeper? The other craters sometimes go to fifteen feet. The biggest one I think is twenty. Have you looked at that one yet?” 

Bruce nodded, then explained how the size of whatever landed had to have been flat on some part, which notably slowed it down. Since, and Bruce was convinced it was a ship, could withstand the velocity without breaking, then it would have been buffered by the wind on the way down. Not much, but enough to leave a more shallow crater compared to the others.

Clark listened to it all like most people did. Yet instead of being polite and going back to talking to Alfred who made sense or asking something else Clark just looked around at the rest of the evidence. “Did you figure all this out on your own?” Clark asked after a moment.

Bruce shrugged, “There’s websites, and Alfred.”

Clark looked impressed anyway, which was how Bruce found himself later back at the diner explaining his conspiracy theory to him. He showed Clark his notes when the guy didn’t look disinterested, and even the website he’d originally found this whole adventure on when Clark handed over his phone.

“So you believe in all this alien thing then?” Clark asked around his milkshake.

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce said. “It’s just as believable as anything else.”

“Very true,” Clark agreed and the, in a complete turn of events, gave his own theories of outer space to Bruce.

He didn’t follow as many blogs as Bruce did but Clark definitely knew what was going on in the whole conspiracy realm. He knew about the government keeping things quiet and was convinced himself there were other worlds out there with technology more advanced than earth.

“But, I think they’re like waiting for us to make the first move.” Clark finished. “I mean, if they aren’t then what are they waiting for? They probably have intergalactic trade set up and we’re missing out. They could have the secrets to a whole bunch of things we can’t even dream of. It’s cruel if they’re just boycotting us is all I’m saying.”

“Exactly,” Bruce breathed.

Alfred cleared his throat, Bruce completely forgetting he was there. “I think I might turn in for the night Master Bruce.”

“Oh,” he spared a look at Clark. He’d kind of been hoping to talk with him a bit more.

Thankfully, Alfred was on the same page as he waved Bruce back to his seat, “I’ll expect you back at eight, no later. Until then, make sure you thank your parents for letting us borrow you Clark.”

“I will.”

Bruce gave a little wave as he watched Alfred leave, turning back to Clark when the door was shut to start on the interesting effects the meteors were having on earth. Clark seemed just as fascinated by that too. In fact, he had notes, papers even, of his own about the phenomenon. Ones he promised to show Bruce as they parted ways that night, Clark making sure Bruce got to his motel before driving off home.

Alfred, for all his talk, was still awake when Bruce got in. There was a glass of water and the meds Alfred had definitely made sure to bring waiting on the bedside table, and, for once, Bruce wasn’t going to put up a fight. Swallowing them dutifully, he changed and asked Alfred if maybe, if they had time, they could go grab Clark after school tomorrow.

He was knocked out before he heard an answer. But he was sure Alfred said yes since, after they did their rounds on the last four craters to make sure there was nothing they had missed, they found themselves back at the Kent farmhouse.

Alfred charmed his way inside once more, and, unlike last time, they got a glass of lemonade as Martha and Jonathan, much more composed today, asked after their adventures in Smallville.

“It’s so quaint here,” Alfred complimented.

“It’s hot,” Bruce tacked on, everyone able to see his burns and how they really weren’t going away any time soon.

“He’s just unused to the sun. We both are. Gotham is just as bad as England sometimes when it comes to hot weather.” Although Bruce had liked England. The days they did have sun it wasn’t so hot he wanted to bury himself in ice. 

“So you are from England,” Martha latched onto. “I did wonder about that accent. What’s it like over there?” 

Which was the talk until Clark came home, book bag flung on the sofa and a loud hello for anyone in the nearby vicinity.

“In here son,” Jonathan called back. “Your friend’s here too.”

“Bruce,” Clark grinned, hanging in the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

He thought for a moment he had took a cue where there wasn’t one yesterday. It wouldn’t have been the first time. So he said “You said you had notes.” and fully expected to be escorted out.

Yet Clark just kept on smiling like there was nothing in the world that could get him down, said, “Oh yeah,” And hurried to go grab whatever bits of paper he needed from his room.

It turns out it was quite a bit of paper. When Clark said he was interested in the meteors he was  _ interested _ . Clark had everything from their composition that he’d managed to analyse to their effects on living and not living things. It was fascinating, and Bruce absorbed it all, just as he noted the Kent family seeming to alternate on shifts as to who was sitting in with them. Not once did they leave Clark alone with Bruce. It was like they didn’t trust Bruce with their son. Or, maybe the other way around. 

“I have more upstairs, but it’s not on the meteors,” Clark said. “When I was younger I was really into others who had weird abilities. I figured either mutation or evolution was behind it. I mean, I might be right, but, others I think maybe the meteors have something to do with it. This isn’t the first time we’ve had earth from other worlds fly down to ours, and, if the radiation is working over time instead of straight away maybe it explains why some people are more different than others.”

“That’s a very sci-fi point of view,” Bruce noted, his hands already itching to grab them.

Clark’s cheeks reddened slightly, “Isn’t this all sci-fi?”

“No, I’m intrigued,” Bruce corrected, seeing how maybe his tone hadn’t been right. “I’ve never looked into other abilities. Not very far anyway.” Mostly because they were always to do with the brain in some way and Bruce was scared maybe, somewhere along the line, he would see some similarities or maybe none at all which proved he was an outcast there too. Nevertheless, “I’d be honoured to read them if you showed me.”

Clark quickly fetched them, the rest of the evening spent with Bruce looking over the mountains of work Clark had put into these theories too. They were extremely detailed, and far more advanced for a boy that was still taking his final exams. Clark should be in his second year of college at least by now with this level of intelligence. 

Bruce appraised him again. “Who taught you about this?”

Clark rubbed his neck sheepisly, “Er, me. Ma and Pa are smart and all, don’t let the farm fool you, but they didn’t really get exactly what I was looking for when I was asking them about all these different things. So I ended up looking them up on my own. Got myself some books, went on the internet, that kind of thing.”

“Same,” Bruce grinned. “Well, Alfred hired some tutors. He’s recently trying to get me to enlist in college. Apparently there’s only so much an average tutor can teach. If I want to broaden my horizons more college is ‘my best bet’.” He still wasn’t going, higher education be damned he’d just buy himself more books.

Clark nodded, this time he looked Bruce over. “So, butler huh? Tutors and fancy cars too? You really just here for a hobby or should I expect the government any day now?” It was phrased as a joke, but Bruce could hear the fear underneath.

“It’s a hobby,” Bruce promised. “One of the few I have that Alfred approves of.”

“Your butler approves of you driving around after aliens?” And, yeah, Bruce could see why Clark was sceptical.

“It’s complicated,” Bruce waved off, and was saved further questions as Alfred chose that moment to pop his head in.

“If you want a good seven hours I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave Master Bruce.”

Not arguing, Bruce said his goodbyes, surprised when Martha Kent was the one to suggest Bruce come around tomorrow if he wanted to spend the day with Clark. It was a Saturday, Bruce kind of forgetting that the weekends were usually spent off from school as Clark had to explain it again to him. 

“I’ll be here,” Bruce promised anyway, knowing that one uncomfortable question wasn’t going to put him off from investigating more of what Clark knew.

The drive back was spent with Alfred not so subtly hiding his pride. A stoic man by nature, Bruce really had been testing him all these years as, before Alfred handed over Bruce’s pills he let slip, “It’s good to see you making friends.”

Something Bruce couldn’t disagree with since he too was a little more than glad he still had the ability as well.

Whether it was the sun, the fact Bruce was sleeping more, or the fact he was taking his pills at the intervals he should be, he woke at noon the next day and had to actually gun it over to the Kent house. While they hadn’t decided on a time, Bruce had wanted to take advantage of the whole day, not just the afternoon, and left Alfred to make his apologies to the older Kents as he went in search of Clark in the barn. 

He was up in the hayloft, some little space being made out of the top layer furnished with old couches and a bookcase Clark was currently sorting into piles. “Right on time,” Clark greeted, “I just found my astrophysics book. It has a really cool theory inside that I was hooked on for some reason as a child.”

Clark didn’t mention the wasted morning so Bruce didn’t either as he sat, pulling out his notebook and listening to Clark start on just what he’d been baffled with when he was younger. 

Bruce stayed for dinner instead of going for some last minute meal with Alfred at the diner. The Kents were all well and polite about it, but Bruce sensed that they had been planning this. Like, they had made sure that they caught Bruce at some point through his stay so they could ask exactly what he and Clark had been talking about. It was odd. But since afterwards Clark took him on a walk instead of back to the barn Bruce couldn’t be too mad. Especially because this walk included things like looking at cows and chickens. 

“Bet you don’t get them in Gotham,” Clark said.

“We sure don’t.” The only cow he’d seen in person had been the one on his plate. The rest were reserved for the internet, TV and his books. It was weird to see one actually alive and moving. Oddly soothing too as he watched it just go about its life. 

“So what’s Gotham like?” Clark asked as they went to find other animals, like mice, for Bruce to gawk at. “I’m thinking about moving to the city for college. Smallville’s all well and good but, it’s just, small.”

Bruce knew, he’d driven from one edge of Smallville to the other in under five hours. “You don’t want to go to Gotham,” Bruce promised. 

“Oh, why?” Like Clark had actually been considering going there.

“Well, for one it’s not sunny.” A point in Bruce’s book, but Clark looked like he needed the sun to survive with how golden his skin was. It would be a shame to lose that luminance just because Clark wanted a change in scenery. “Then there’s the people. They’re rude, pushy, not at all like the people in Smallville. And the crime is beyond out of control. A few days before we came here the mayor was caught being given bribes by the Falcones, a mob, so he’d turn a blind eye to the new drug shipments coming in.”

Clark whistled low, “How long’s he getting?”

“Getting?” Oh, like prison, “No, he’s still our mayor. I hear he’s being congratulated by the GCPD for keeping the peace.”

“Good God,” Which pretty much summed up Gotham to an outsider.

“You’d best off sticking to somewhere else. Like, Coast, or DC. Actually, maybe not DC.” He didn’t think Clark would do well there. Or worse, he would and he’d lose whatever boyish charm he had. 

“What about Metropolis?” Clark asked. “It was kind of my second choice. It’s an easy distance from Smallville, and it’s right next door to Gotham.”

Bruce shrugged, “Don’t know. I don’t actually get out much.”

“Too busy studying aliens?” Clark guessed.

“Something like that,” Bruce waved off again.

They moved talk to what else Bruce was going to do while he was in Smallville, Clark surprised when he heard all Bruce had planned was to do his investigation and go home. Affronted, Clark insisted he was going to pick Bruce up the next day and take him sight seeing. The plan was approved by Alfred anyway, who gave Clark a good time to expect Bruce awake for picking up.

He slept in the next day too, Alfred having to wake him in the end, and not looking too upset to do so as he hurried Bruce into the shower and pulled out breakfast from somewhere. Clark was waiting outside with his truck, Bruce half way to him before he realised Alfred wasn’t coming.

“You’re just going to wait here?” Bruce asked. It sounded boring, and not really why he had brought Alfred. They were both here to do something interesting. It was unfair to just leave him.

Yet Alfred insisted Bruce hurry. “I have other plans,” he promised, nearly shoving Bruce into the truck by the end.

He watched Alfred disappear in the mirror, reminding himself over and over again that Alfred was trained, he could look after himself. Smallville may have crime like any other town but it wasn’t as high as Gotham and human trafficking probably wouldn’t want a man of Alfred’s age. Probably. That still didn’t soothe the insistent voice in Bruce’s head that mumbled about other reasons why someone might want to kidnap Alfred.

“Hey,” Clark said, tapping Bruce lightly on the knee. “He’ll be fine. He was telling Pa yesterday about wanting to go bird watching. Probably more interesting than what we’re doing if you ask me.”

The joke fell flat, namely because Alfred hated bird watching. In Gotham, he liked looking at them in the gardens, but, actively seeking them out he left for those with an actual interest. It had probably been an excuse. An excuse for what remained to be seen.

They drove for a while before resting the car on top of a hill not too far from the Kent house. The reason for why became clear when Clark wandered off into the trees and returned with two horses.

“We’ll go riding to the lake. It’s not the wonders of Smallville but it’s fun. Then, this afternoon when it’s cooled down a bit we can take the historic tour of Smallville. I know, fun,” Clark said with a roll of his eyes. “But you came at an awkward time. We usually have the fair in a few weeks, when everyone’s out for summer. So, we’re gonna have to make do.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bruce said, eyeing his horse warily.

Clark helped him up, he even helped slide Bruce’s feet through the stirrups. The actual riding he told Bruce not to bother, the horses usually followed each other, so as long as Bruce didn’t give off any confusing signals he should be okay to just sit there and enjoy the ride.

It was hotter on a horse than in the truck. The sun beat down on them, Bruce feeling his sunscreen drip as sweat started building up. Still, the scenery was nice, much nicer than anything in Gotham. There was an untamed wildness that seemed to surround every patch of land. A growth of trees or long meadows of wildflowers that grew to the side of the houses and the fields.

Clark took them through the trees, the horses seeming to appreciate the thoughtfulness as the one under Bruce started picking up the pace a bit. The lake they came to was picturesque to say the least. It was like looking at a post card, and Clark promised, as he let the horses wander as they pleased, that the water was cool.

“So?” Bruce asked.

“So,” Clark repeated, shucking his shirt and running to the edge of the small dock there, “We can get a good swim in. You do swim right?”

“Er.” Bruce could swim. His mother had made sure of it considering most people ended up in the Gotham bay at some point in their lives. Being a Wayne, swimming was paramount to survival. That being said, Bruce had always swum in his pool. He wasn’t one for the beach even as a child and lakes were just as turbulent as the sea. Right? “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Well,” Clark considered, his trainers joining the pile he was making, “I’ve been coming here with Lana and Pete since I was six and none of us have had any trouble. But, if you’re really against it you can just sit there and soak up the sun a bit more. I think you missed a spot on your nose.”

Bruce felt himself pouting, knowing without a doubt he was red again after yesterday. Alfred had been buying more after sun than anything else since they came here. Yet another reason really why Bruce was reluctant to get in the water. Getting in was alright, but getting out, and putting clothes on tender skin was painful if Bruce was remembering it correctly.

He watched as Clark started unbuttoning his jeans, deliberating a moment longer before stepping out onto the wooden planks. “Is it very deep here?”

Clark made a so-so gesture. “You can touch the bottom, but not by much.” He gave Bruce another long look, “If you’re not a strong swimmer you might not want to chance it.”

“I can swim,” Bruce insisted, peeling his sweat damp clothes off. 

Clark stared a moment longer before finishing his strip, underwear and all, jumping boldly into the water as soon as they hit the planks. 

Bruce took a little longer. Despite having no qualms about the nudity, he was sure places like this had leeches and the likes in. With the way Bruce’s life was going he’d probably get seven stuck to his skin and not know until he was climbing out. 

He dangled his foot over the edge, his toes brushing the water that really was soothing to the touch. It would be nice to take a dip, and Clark was alright. He was great in fact, doing little somersaults in the water.

Bruce submerged his whole foot, sliding down until his calf was in the water. He could do it. Definitely. 

He sighed, standing. 

This was ridiculous. He was planning on doing something with his life. Bettering himself, becoming more capable of helping others yet here he was refusing to get in a stupid lake. He knew, sooner or later he was going to have to get out of his comfort zone. He’d been lucky so far that he had money to afford private martial arts lessons and tutors so he wouldn’t have to interact with a lot of people. But, if he wanted to truly become what he wanted he was going to have to take the plunge.

It might as well be now.

With a good step back Bruce flung himself into the water, leeches and drowning be damned. He breached the surface with a gasp, the shock of temperature dissipating after a moment. Clark had been right, it really was nice, and as he grew accustomed to the current he started to wade out into deeper waters. 

He forced himself not to think about what was lurking beneath the water even as a few things grazed his skin every now and then. Instead, he focused on swimming circles around Clark, broadening his strokes until he was making good speed. He should really take up swimming more often, maybe make an effort to do it with his clothes on too. 

It was fun, for a while, but swimming taxed the mind more than the body. The repetitive motion could be sustained with only minimal effort, leaving Bruce with his thoughts once more.

It was helpful, not long after Bruce started worrying about other things living in this lake, that Clark decided to try and drown him. He posed it as a game, but since Bruce ended up dunked underwater much more than Clark he didn’t see how fair this ‘game’ was.

They got out after a while. Well, after Bruce finally managed to dunk Clark and Clark decided to go out on a winning streak. They set themselves at the tree line, Bruce slathering himself in sunscreen as soon as his skin was somewhat dry. 

Clark took the somewhat easier route since he never seemed to do much more than tan and lay himself in the sun. “Fun huh?” Clark said.

“I suppose,” Bruce gave, more convinced now that the rest of the day may not be as bad as he first thought. 

He rested on his hands, gazing out into the lake. It was so peaceful here. So much to look at, and because of that there was so much to keep him occupied. There, a bush he’d missed on his earlier assessment, and on the lake a ripple that was larger than those before. Birds, ants, things that squeaked and squawked in the trees, it held that part of Bruce that was always on and let the rest of him just relax into the quiet calm Smallville seemed to exude.

He felt eyes on him at one point. Bruce was looking at the birds that were flying overhead when he noted the shuffle and the lack of one after that. Clark was looking at him. Not in a innocent way either. Clark was lingering.

Bruce knew, objectively, that he was good looking. Alfred said he looked like his father, Bruce saw every time he looked in the mirror that it was true, and, well, Bruce knew his father was handsome. Ergo, Bruce had something going for him. He just didn’t think a boy from smalltown Smallville would think the same thing. 

Not that Bruce minded. He’d looked at Clark. He was sure everyone looked at Clark really. He probably had a girlfriend at school. One, if Bruce was going with stereotypes, Clark was planning on marrying before they were both twenty one. On the flip side, judging from the fact Clark was talking out of state colleges, perhaps there was no girlfriend, or no long term plans with her. Whatever the case Bruce didn’t draw attention to Clark’s staring. 

It wasn’t like it lasted long anyway. In seconds Clark was sitting up, throwing a shirt Bruce’s way and telling him they’d better get the horses back if they wanted to start the rest of the tour.

The truck, when they got back in to ride to town, was a blessing as cool air brought back that earlier relief. Their first stop was also air conditioned. Clark took him to all the places with plaques, reciting the history of his town like he was a tour guide himself. Or a teacher that had drilled these facts into Clark from a young age. 

Whatever it was, Clark knew his history, and soon so did Bruce as they went all over town until ending up right back at the largest meteor crater the real tour guide had shown them when they first arrived.

“Which leads us to the meteor shower,” Clark finished with. “Pete’s mom was actually the first one to see the rocks flying towards Smallville, she ran out into the road to warn everyone else before taking cover in the church’s bunker.”

“And your parents?” Bruce asked, trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well,” Clark said, no hesitation. A good sign for truthfulness anyway. “Ma and Pa were driving home from town. I think Ma wanted some groceries. I don’t know. But they managed to get to cover just as the meteor hit not far from our house.”

“So they saw it land?” Bruce pressed gently.

“I don’t know about that,” Clark considered. “I think they were too spooked to do anything but run inside. We own it now, but at the time it must have been terrifying to see the sky literally raining fire.”

“Apocalyptic,” Bruce agreed and left it at that. It was believable if nothing else, and Clark didn’t seem to be telling a lie. 

“They probably didn’t want to stay outside as well because the meteor shower was the day they first brought me home.”

Home? Ah, this made more sense. “You’re adopted?”

“Yeah,” Said the man that was used to defending his parents. 

“That’s good of them,” Bruce made sure to say. “There aren’t many people who are willing to take another person’s child on. I know Alfred’s had some difficulty with me over the years.”

They shared a look, one of understanding. They may have lost their parents at different times but the loss between them was universal. 

Clark hopped into the crater, “So what do you make of this one?”

“Interesting.” Bruce continued to tell Clark about his findings until he couldn’t anymore. He found himself at a loss, everything he’d wanted to say out in the open. All his suspicions about this being one of the first because of the speed in which it had been flung and landed across space. He even found himself finishing off his explanation about just what the rock itself was. He thought, it was either a meteor cluster that had attached itself to the spaceship because of the magnetic field it emitted in space, or, it was of the same origin of the spaceship and some kind of debris had, again, followed the spaceship’s trajectory.

“So, either way aliens,” Clark said.

“I know they’re out there, and I know one has landed here. The question is what happened to it.” He was convinced it was either the government, or the alien had found a way to hide in Smallville. Well, hide or die. He wouldn’t put it past the alien to abandon its ship just so it could die and decompose in peace. That would be what Bruce would want. He’d seen enough autopsies to last a lifetime.

“We should do some digging,” Clark suggested after a moment, like he could hear Bruce’s thoughts. “After school, we can retrace the ships landing and see if it would have been possible for the alien to still be alive and or escape.”

“That’s the plan.” He was already going to do that with Alfred. But, he supposed he could wait around for Clark. A few hours wasn’t long in the grand scheme of things.

Clark hopped out of the crater, dusting himself off as he led Bruce around the field and back to the truck. “Speaking of school. I have a football game on Friday if you want to come to it.”

“Football?”

“Do people not have football in Gotham?” Clark teased. “If not, it’s this game we play as team where we fight over a ball to score points that amount to nothing but school pride and the glory of being number one.”

Bruce fought a smile, “If we were in Gotham you’d get beat up for saying something like that.” Kids, even when Bruce had been in school as a child, were already football mad. At events, if Bruce ever went to them these days, it had only gotten worse. Any person his age he tried to initiate conversation with always tried to keep it on the topic of football, and when Bruce didn’t share an interest it was like he’d just blasphemed in front of them. The adults, while capable of other conversational topics, could be just as bad on occasion.

Clark must have been in the same boat as he said, “I’d get beat up here too. In fact I have. But, usually there’s something else included in their taunts than the fact I like to mock their love of the game.”

“Yet you’re part of the team?” He could see why. Broad shoulders, thick legs, Clark Kent was sturdy. He’d at least be good for defence if his aim was shoddy.

“What can I say, peer pressure gets to all of us in the end.” He rubbed his neck after a moment, “I kind of wanted to play too. It’s no fun when all your friends are on the team and you’re stuck taking photos for the school newspaper. Sometimes I just want to get on the other side of the camera for a change.”

It was the other way around for Bruce. 

“I don’t know,” He found himself saying. “Crowds aren’t really my thing and, I’ve been told, football is popular anywhere so, I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Clark insisted. Even if Bruce could sense it kind of wasn’t. “I was really just asking so I knew you would still be around on Friday. You never did say how long you were staying.”

In actual fact Bruce didn’t know how long he was staying either. “Usually we stay until I’m called back home or Alfred convinces me it’s a dud. Considering there might actually be something here, I don’t know. I guess I’ll stay until I get a better idea of what actually happened in that corn field.”

The answer was good enough to put a smile back on Clark’s face. Even if the rest of the afternoon Clark insisted no more alien talk and drove Bruce to the diner for ice cream. Also to meet Alfred who was already seated inside.

He didn’t wave them over, but Bruce felt stupid just pretending Alfred didn’t exist so he took the empty seat opposite while Clark ordered. “Bird watching huh?” Bruce approached.

Alfred, looking much more muddy and tired than he had any right looking after bird watching, merely gave Bruce one of his famous looks, telling him, “We’ll talk later,” as Clark came back with their sweet treat. “How was your day then? I hope Master Bruce has been behaving himself.”

“Good as gold,” Clark promised. “Although he might be a bit burnt. I took him swimming in the lake this morning and I think he forgot to do a full body lather before he jumped in.”

Clark would be correct on that front. Bruce could feel his skin overheating even as he sat there in the air con. Yet Alfred didn’t reprimand Clark for his forgetfulness. Nor Bruce surprisingly. “I suppose it can’t be helped. Your mother was the same. I don’t think her family ventured outside of Gotham until she met your father. The family photos always had to be taken in the shade if you recall.”

“Yeah.” Actually he couldn’t. The memories of the good days had faded fast after the accident. It was like his brain was trying to erase them in the hopes it could erase that night too. It didn’t work. If anything Bruce remembered that night in more startling clarity than he could any other memory he still had. But, he’d learnt telling Alfred such a thing often led to a trip to the doctors, which led to a trip to the psychologist and eventually more meds. Considering it had taken years of pretending to get a decent nights sleep to get him off the sleeping pills Bruce didn’t want to think how long it would take to wean him off another pill he probably would be prescribed the rest of his life. So he smiled, pretending the lack of memory didn’t hurt, and embellished a little with fairly common things Alfred could never poke holes in. Like, “Didn’t she always wear a hat?” Since she did in Gotham when she was going out. A nice small one that slanted on her head when they went to galas. Bruce had found that out looking at her photo in the papers Alfred kept. It wasn’t too big of a guess she might also wear one while on holiday to keep her pale complexion.

Sure enough, “She did yes. Your father always complained because he could never get a clear shot of her face.”

Bruce nodded, filling his mouth with ice cream so he wouldn’t say anything more.

They didn’t stay long, Alfred insisting Bruce still had a few hours before he was wanted back at the motel, so Clark took Bruce around the town one last time until they ended up at the water tower watching the sunset. They didn’t get views like this in Gotham that was for sure.

He went to sleep that night dreaming of colours that he’d never seen in the Gotham skyline. They mostly only saw red when the sun set, the pollution warping some of the colours when the sky was actually clear. It was pretty ominous for those who didn’t live there.

Alfred let him sleep in again, this time because he had slept in actually. It was nice to see he wasn’t the only one enjoying the ambiance. However, it meant Bruce was on his own for foraging breakfast, a feat he only just achieved when he found a store that sold mini croissants that didn’t need warming up in any way. It wasn’t that he was too rich for toast, just that, the last time he’d made it he’d somehow managed to break the toaster in the process. Alfred hadn’t been happy, and Bruce didn’t want to chance breaking the one in the motel so mini croissants it was.

Alfred appreciated it anyway.

“Clark’s going to be helping us today after school. I want to take another look at that cornfield.” Maybe dig it up a bit to see how strong the radiation was nearer the actual bottom of the crater.

“In that case,” Alfred said, “We should have enough time to check out the army base before meeting up with him.”

“Army base?” 

Which was when Alfred told Bruce exactly what his ‘bird watching’ consisted of the day before.

While Bruce was off skinny dipping with Clark Alfred had got a head start on this whole deeper investigation business. He found out where the nearest military base was to Smallville and had a little drive down, unsurprised to find one of their facilities under an hours drive from the Smallville sign. Sneaking in was easy for a man of Alfred’s skills, even if Bruce remembered how frazzled he looked the day before when they met up.

“Did you find anything then?” Bruce asked.

Alfred scrolled along on his phone for a moment before handing it over. “While I don’t know about them taking the alien craft they definitely knew something about it. I found reports from their scientists and meteorologists at the time describing something foreign amongst the rock clusters that were heading to earth.”

Apparently the military base had known about the meteors a week before their arrival according to this. It begged the question why they didn’t evacuate the town, one that was found as Bruce saw their coordinates slightly off course. He supposed not even the best scientists in the world could be right all the time. 

“So, this thing crashed and the government didn’t get to it in time.” Since, if Alfred had found more about the spaceships, autopsy reports even excavations, he would have it on his phone. “Someone else must have found it then. Or, the alien was smart enough to hide itself until danger passed.”

They really needed to get to that site.

But before that Alfred insisted on getting something proper for them to eat that evening. Apparently he could only stomach eating out so many times before the call for good homemade meals came back around. 

So they went grocery shopping, Alfred having Bruce push the cart around as he figured out something they could make with a small barbecue. It passed the time anyway until they were sitting inside the Kent house once more waiting for Clark to come home.

The Kents, again, were interested in Bruce’s work. While they didn’t seem to understand it, they were happy to let Bruce prattle on and on about his notes. Something which took a while to do when Bruce kept waiting for them, like other people, to try and shut him down and move onto more interesting conversations, like the weather.

He just didn’t know what he found so wrong about the Kents. They were nice people. Extremely nice. Maybe that was the problem. Growing up surrounded by people who didn’t even give to charity unless it was the ‘in’ thing it seemed weird finding out that there were people out there who actually found kindness to be something that was deserved.

Still, they seemed to have a peculiar interest in something Bruce was telling them. What exactly he couldn’t say.

Clark came home right on time, stopping only to grab something quick to eat before he was hurrying Bruce and Alfred out the door and to the crater. “I had some thoughts,” Clark said, “About what might have happened. I mean, we don’t know what kind of abilities this thing has so, maybe it was able to blend in with us before people started investigating the meteor sites. I mean, human DNA has to come from somewhere for us to have evolved into this, so there’s a good chance that others might have the same genes only on different planets. Who knows, the differences could be so minute we wouldn’t even be able to guess unless we took a blood sample.”

“You’ve been on the forums,” Bruce guessed, Clark not denying it as they parked and started through the field to where the ship crashed. “But I was thinking the same this morning. Apparently the government didn’t find anything here, which means that either someone else did and covered it up before they got here or the alien wasn’t as hurt as we originally thought and managed to shield himself from prying eyes.”

They started with the cover up option first, Clark going over everyone that lived nearby and even those that lived in town. Apparently the people of Smallville were a people of habit. Meaning, that those alive during the meteor shower probably didn’t have that much of a change in routine to what they do now. It helped work out who would be using this road at the time of the crash anyway.

“I think the sheriff might have been on the road. It’s a long shot since there were more important things in town to look after, but he could have been racing around to do the rounds of the farms. Give us a heads up or check on us or something.” 

Bruce added him to the list before they started re-enacting. They established just how big this craft would have been at first, which, judging from the landing site, wasn’t too big. Bruce would bet it would have been large enough to transport a small human, so whatever creature this was its species wasn’t tall. From impact it looked like there could have been some stabilizers in motion that would allow it a gentler landing than the rocks, the divot created a mix of velocity and probably the thrusters working. If it was a gentle landing then the creature could have hopped out unscathed, the direction of where it might have hid, ship and all, troubling Bruce as he looked at the wide fields around them.

“Was this always a corn field?” he asked.

“I think so,” Clark answered. “I don’t remember Ma and Pa saying it was anything different. Why?”

“Height,” Bruce said. “This thing was small so perhaps it could have ran through the fields without being seen. But, surely others would have noticed the corn falling or moving.” He looked to the ground, trying to see if he could notice any noticable cracks or holes in the dirt that might indicate damage. Yet the land was as flat as it should be, the only hole Bruce finding that of a rock. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe it’s strong,” Clark suggested, always seeming to be on the same wavelength as Bruce. “We don’t know what kind of abilities it has remember. Strength could be one of them. It could have carried it over the corn.”

“Then surely someone would have saw something. Your parents for instance.” Although, with little Clark probably screaming his head off at his new home being destroyed perhaps not. “No, this was careful. It must have cloaked the ship some way if it carried it out. If not, even with the strength it had, this thing was small Clark, it would take time to carry it through the fields to the nearest treeline.”

“I’ll ask Ma and Pa again but, I don’t think they’re gonna give you any other answer than they didn’t see anything.”

Figures. 

They went through other scenarios anyway until it was too dark to do anything else. With promises to meet up again the next day Bruce and Alfred drove back for their late night barbeque and bed.

Only, Clark didn’t turn up the next day. When they went knocking at the Kent’s house Martha told them Clark had a late football practice and homework. The day after, Jonathan needed Clark to help him plant some new boundary lines for the fields. Thursday and Bruce knew Clark was avoiding him for some reason.

“Do you think I said something wrong?” Bruce asked. He’d been going over again and again what he might have done at their last meeting for Clark to just go silent on him. 

Alfred, ever optimistic that it wasn’t Bruce in the wrong said, “No. Clark is probably just busy, like his parents said. He has got school Master Bruce, and while you were lucky enough to find the exams they have for people your age easy others do not.”

“I guess.” It still didn’t stop him from replaying their day. Nor for suggesting that they maybe stop by the football game tomorrow night. “Clark invited me,” Bruce said when Alfred grew a bit dubious. 

“Very well.” 

Which was how Bruce found himself battling his hatred for crowds and watching a bunch of teens run around a field.

Alfred had opted to stay behind. He had never quite got the hang of American football and didn’t really want to. When Bruce had been younger his attempts to get Bruce into sport had widely been appealing to Bruce’s love of old cartoons and movies. Ergo, fencing. He did try archery once, but as soon as the Queens heard Bruce was taking lessons they enrolled Oliver too. It did not end well for either of them.

He felt out of place as he sat there, despite the fact that he was surrounded by people his own age and some of them looking just as bored, if not more so, than Bruce himself. He just, didn’t like being surrounded. It left the opportunity for something bad to happen. 

That being said, he did enjoy watching Clark run around once he’d spotted him. Clark seemed to know just fine what he was doing, and even shouted at a few of his teammates when the opportunity presented itself. It was interesting to see him in his natural habitat. These were the people Clark surrounded himself with every day after all. While he had spent the vast majority of the past week with Bruce he had a life outside of that too. This life, and as Clark managed to cajole his team into scoring another goal, point, something, Bruce felt some of the reasoning Alfred had told him sink in.

Clark probably had been busy. He had a game, so it was no wonder he had practice to go to. Homework was even more important considering college was only a few months away. Clark had a lot on his plate. It was only right something get pushed to the side, and aliens weren’t always the top of everyone’s list no matter how interesting they were.

The game seemed to last a lifetime. But lifetimes always came to an end in someway. This time it was a happy occasion as Clark’s team roared their victory and ran off to accept their congratulations.

Some people were streaming onto the pitch, Bruce debating joining them just so he could see if Clark had time to talk before his victory party. But he decided against it as he saw the Kents hop over and drag Clark to his own group of people.

He ended up waiting in the parking lot, spotting Clark’s truck near the gym and taking a stance there. The waiting felt even longer here with nothing to occupy himself with. He saw people giving him strange looks as they went to their own car, probably because he was bright red from sunburn and the only one there without a friend. The Kents came by at some point, both of them shooting quick looks back to where Clark was probably changing before carrying on with the other parents. 

Clark, when he came out, still wasn’t alone. But, he managed to pry himself from them when he saw Bruce, walking over with an expression that told Bruce all he needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said before Clark could talk. “If I said something wrong last time we met. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t hang around with people my own age. I understand if whatever you found troubling makes you not want to hang around with me anymore, just, know I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Clark hurried in before Bruce could add more. “It wasn’t you. I just don’t have time to hang around with you anymore, and I know it sounds harsh but-”

“No, you have things, exams and football. I understand.” He did, he just didn’t know why Clark looked like he wanted to bolt if he stayed around Bruce too long. “Just because I have free time doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.”

“Yeah. Still, it was unfair not to talk to you in person. Just, don’t come around anymore alright?”

Bruce felt himself nodding, understanding still but still hurt a little at the words. He made for his car, making sure he got out of there at an easy speed so neither of them could make the other feel any worse.

He kept his word to Clark not to knock or ask for him anymore. 

Their investigation in Smallville, sadly, only lasted another week before their clues ran dry and Alfred informed Bruce he had his own duties to get back to. Later in life Bruce would be cursing himself for not looking into Smallville further.

Right then however, he found himself gripping his wrist so hard his nails broke skin when he went home to see that the cleaners had moved things out of place again. The portrait of his parents was too far to the left. Someone had moved his father’s documents out of place. His mother’s perfumes had been put away. It wasn’t right and had Bruce pulling three all nighters that not even Alfred could stop in order to be set back to normal.

College was presented to him again, Alfred insisting it might be good for him to get out of Gotham. Bruce just threw the pamphlets out. College wouldn’t help him. He could barely live in his own house without breaking nevermind a place surrounded by people his own age that would just- 

No.

College wasn’t for him.

But neither was staying here.

Bruce had plans. Big plans. Ones he couldn’t implement while he was still so reliant on Alfred and hesitant about setting his foot out the front door. 

He decided, one night as he was searching the internet for more information about a conspiracy he was reading about, that the best thing for him would be a fresh start. A complete fresh start. One that pushed him past his limits until there were new limits set. He was wasting his life here reading about things that could be solved with a bit more effort and a lot more sneakiness. So it was time to do something.

The next morning, as Alfred placed another pamphlet on a tray with Bruce’s breakfast, Alfred wouldn’t find Bruce in his room like he usually did. Nor did he find him in the library. His things were still there, his laptop not even off. But Bruce was gone.

With no money, the clothes on his back and his wits about him, Bruce managed to hide away in a lorry intended for Coast City. From there he would get a boat, the first he could find, and the rest would happen as it would.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those who might be thinking Bruce is a bit OOC, I like to think of pre training Bruce as being this little ball of anxiety. He's always worried about worse case scenarios, but, unlike when he has the cowl, there's nothing he can do but worry. He's isolated in the manor too, with only Alfred for company so he's always checking himself when he's out in public or with people his own age.   
> Needless to say, I like to think of Bruce as a guy with problems and it's always interesting to write that. If this doesn't float your boat, that's fine, just know that's how I interpret it.


End file.
